


just a kiss

by ThinkingCAPSLOCK



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Budding Romance, Dating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6421540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkingCAPSLOCK/pseuds/ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's moonbeams and fire after the seventh date</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a kiss

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to ["just a kiss" by lady antebellum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xs9X8NhQJF4) 18 times in a row writing this fic, so yeah, that's what this is inspired by/themed around. i highly recommend a listen!

The single step on his stoop is just high enough to close the four point five inches that separate Akaashi's eyes from Bokuto's. It's where he pauses, where he turns around, keys in one hand, the other empty (recently occupied with Bokuto's hand, and the warmth lingers, and he curls his fingers to a fist to preserve the heat the extra three seconds he knows he can). 

Bokuto shuffles on his feet, the moonlight sharp enough to cast shadows on his face, behind his back, highlight the whites in his eyes. His hair is a halo of spikes, emitting its own light, far enough from the streetlights to be pure white. His scarf is askew, his jacket unzipped. His hands twist in on each other, one finger at a time, methodic and shaky.

Watching his fingers twist makes Akaashi's stomach twist, one knot on another, the squirming riding up his spine and resulting in a small shiver. Bokuto notices (he notices everything these days), and he tilts his head to the side, angled, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes flickering between amber and white with curiosity.

"I'm fine," Akaashi says, and he doesn't just mean about the shiver, and he doesn't mean it a bit too much and he can hear his own intention like a gunshot. He clamps his mouth shut. He takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes. Relaxes his hand from its fist, the warmth gone, his hand aching.

The warmth back again as Bokuto scoops it for a third time that evening. His smile the first thing Akaashi sees. A thumb running circles on the back of his hand.

"I had a good time," Bokuto whispers. His voice carries in the empty air just like it does in a crowd. His grip is loose, and Akaashi closes his own hand in it, just to get the squeeze he knows will follow.

"I... did too," he replies, his whisper more a mumble, fumbled and awkward. He shrugs his shoulders to his ears and glances at his feet. He glances back to see Bokuto grin, to see the flash of mischief in his eyes before he pulls at Akaashi's hand, before Akaashi falls forward against scarf and shoulder.

Arms slide around his back, and he thinks about close they are, how strange it is to be so tall, the bit of zipper digging into his collar. He thinks about the light from Bokuto is so cold and crisp at night, but his body still burns like midday, catching and spreading into Akaashi's chest. His heart flutters, pounds, throbs at the change in temperature, the shift in their proximity. 

He slides his own arms around Bokuto's neck, shifts his face into the scarf. He stays there far too long (long enough for Bokuto to lean his head against Akaashi's, long enough that Bokuto runs circles in the small of his back, long enough his face feels warm and his mind empties). He forces himself to lean back, but he can't draw his arms away.

Bokuto glows in the moonbeam, ethereal, unmarred and unflawed. His gaze soft, his smile tugging at the corners of his eyes, his hands pressing that extra bit of pressure into Akaashi's back. 

Akaashi kisses him. 

He tightens his arms, he tilts his head, he presses their lips together. He catches Bokuto's smile, his moonlight and stardust and fire. He feels it seep into his body, he feels Bokuto shift and his breath catch and he relaxes, kissing back, letting Akaashi take what he wants.

Pulling back is slow, agonizing, and Akaashi finds he can't get too far away. He lingers, his breaths short and shallow and caught up in Bokuto's deep sighs, his soft laugh. Breaths that hitch in Akaashi's throat as Bokuto's fingers grace his cheek, barely there, treating him like gossamer. Porcelain.

It feels right.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Bokuto says, and his movement backwards is two inches, half a step, fifty miles. The absence of his warmth a hollow ache in Akaashi's chest. The last trail of his fingers down Akaashi's cheek haunts his skin, and he shivers, and this one Bokuto doesn't question (and it's the one Akaashi wants him to). 

Akaashi could ask him to stay. He knows he could. But Bokuto's already taken another step, half turned, his shoulders relaxed and that soft smile refusing to budge on his face. And that sight, that extra glimpse, is enough to settle his heart, to fill the hollow, to make that damn contagious smile spread across his own face. Not tonight. 

"Tomorrow," he replies, and it's a promise and insistence and Bokuto winks his agreement, his last gesture before he turns around. Before the shadows and the streetlights take him into the night.

Akaashi turns around and unlocks his door.


End file.
